


Day 5: Battle Scars (Space Pirates!AU)

by gorgawesome



Series: Shance Week 2k16 [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Lance being a tease, M/M, Shiro thinks a lot about stuff, Space Pirate!AU, That man is a real thinker, praise be, praise be to kingsdoodles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-31 16:24:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8585506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gorgawesome/pseuds/gorgawesome
Summary: Shiro can't sleep. But neither can Lance.
I'm tired and can't think of a better summary, bleh.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based off of [king's](http://kingsdoodles.tumblr.com/) absolutely wonderful Space Pirates!AU. This piece of writing is AAAAAALL dedicated to her ^^
> 
> And yes, I know I'm late TT_TT I really wanted to put in the effort into this one, plus everything just started really piling up with school and stuff, so... yeah....

What Shiro liked most about space was it's all-encompassing vastness. He liked how each sparkling dot in the inky darkness represented a whole system of worlds that they may, or may never discover. He drew a curious sense of comfort from knowing that even despite the differences between what he knew and what may await him and his crew on these new worlds, there were certain patterns that nature held fast to. There were specific shapes that repeated, no matter how many alien species they came across. Certain conditions yielded results that were not exactly the same, but familiar. He could always find something to relate to, no matter how far they traveled, or how alien the planets they landed on appeared at first glance.

War was one of those things that seemed to be universal wherever they went. And no matter how much he wanted to blame the Galra Empire for the unrest on the many worlds they had visited, struggle was simply a natural part of life. He and his rag-tag group of pirates were a prime example of that. He knew they all had scars. But it was not something that was ever discussed, no matter how visible some scars were.

Shiro's were a lot more prominent than the others'. His life under the Galra was painted with slashes all over his body. His prosthetic arm a constant reminder of what he'd lost and what he was fighting for. He leaned against the back of the control panel as he gazed out the front windows, blackness dotted with stars staring back at him. There were no alarms or distress signals to be had in this quadrant. When Allura scanned the nearby solar systems earlier, the results had come back negative for advanced technologies or any significant sources of minerals that the Galra mined for, which was safe to assume that Galra wouldn't have much interest in this small pocket of the universe.

Everyone of course took that to mean that they could take a break and rest, catching up on some much needed sleep. But unlike them, Shiro couldn't sleep. Not for more than four hours at a time, before he would jolt awake and fully alert, or sweating and with racing heart-beat, whatever nightmare he'd dreamt a vague prickling along his spine and shoulders.

So he came to the bridge, to try and get away from the dreams that plagued him. To imagine what sort of life could have developed on one of the planets circling that star over there.

He really had not expected anyone else to be up at this odd, twilight hour, when even Keith was still warmly tucked away in his bunk instead of pushing himself in training in the early hours of the morning. And he certainly hadn't expected Lance -of all people- to enter the bridge, a wide yawn splitting his lips, barely covered by a lazy wave of a hand.

"Morning." The sleepy, defenseless smile made something warm spread inside him as Shiro nodded, quickly checking the time on the panel he was leaning on to confirm that the hour had indeed crawled to the a.m. while he had been busy staring at the stars.

"Good morning. I never thought I would see you up this early." He teased, getting a lazy shrug in response.

"Early bird catches the worm and all that, you know." Lance came to rest against the pillar across from Shiro, his legs shifting to cross at the ankles in a smooth, graceful motion. For as tall and lanky as the young man was, Lance moved with a fluidity that was breath-taking. Hunk had a similar grace about him. Shiro theorized that it may have something to do with where they came from. He remembered the planet the two were from, how it was covered with water, with only a few, scattered islands occupied by the handful of the descendants of the original human colonists. Lance and Hunk had spent most of their lives under water, from what Shiro had heard, their matching shoulder tattoos marking them as tribesmen, friends, brothers.

"Soooo..."

Shiro looked up to catch Lance's eyes, managing to ward off a flush when he realized he had been trying to sneak a peak of Lance's tattoos under the loose shirt he wore.

"Sorry, you caught me thinking." He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Maybe he was more tired than he thought he was.

"I can see that." Lance chuckled, smiling at Shiro.

Silence stretched between them, neither sure what to talk about before Lance spoke up.

"I couldn't sleep. I think Allura's emergency drills are starting to change my sleeping patterns."

Shiro's lips quirked at the complaint, noting how Lance's bottom lip stuck out subtly, affecting a pout that was frankly adorable.

"Uh-huh."

"Her gentle beauty is but a disguise for her hard center. Her beauty routine as strict as her grip on the troops."

Shiro's eyebrows rose while Lance continued to lament Allura's particular brand of single-minded zeal.

"I have seen her make men tremble in their boots with just a look." Lance continued. Sometimes Shiro wasn't sure whether Lance was being serious, or not. Whatever happened, the young man was always joking and exaggerating, always talking about everything and nothing. He was like water, adapting to the new and simply re-forming around it. He was steady and optimistic, and though he talked a lot, Shiro couldn't say that he knew all that much about him. Lance always seemed to flow all around him, his presence filling the room. His voice, always laughing, always with a pun, a joke, or a flirty comment on the tip of his tongue.

Shiro enjoyed Lance's idle chatter, the young man's voice pleasant and his inflection made for story-telling. His exaggerations only lent themselves to the tales he wove. And though at times his stories rang true, most of the time he would have the galley in uproarious laughter, Pidge calling "Bullshit!" across the galley and Hunk shaking his head at his best friend's antics.

Lance, like everyone else on this ship, had his own scars. They were fewer than on most, but Shiro knew that each had its own story to tell. Shiro let his eyes trail over the long, thin, barely there line, which stretched from Lance's collarbone and disappeared under his shirt. It wasn't a deep scar, or even that visible really, but it was quite long and Shiro found himself wondering how and where Lance had gotten it.

He wasn't really listening to what Lance was saying anymore, simply enjoying the cadence of his voice, the smile on his face, and the motions of his hands as he talked. So it took him a moment to realize that Lance had asked him a question.

"Hm?" He refocused his gaze on Lance's eyes instead of somewhere vaguely in the general area of his face.

"I was asking about what is it that's got you so lost in your own head?" Lance had his eyebrow raised at him, amused by Shiro's inattention.

Shiro considered the question, letting another silence stretch between them while Lance waited patiently. 

They were completely alone, the gentle humming of the ship's engines the only other sound around them. The rest of the crew wouldn't be up for several more hours still, Shiro concluded. And with this, he became so much more aware of how close they were, standing face-to-face, with a distance of nary, two, maybe three steps. He could see Lance watching him right back, the young man's posture relaxed and open. Shiro may not have known much about Lance, but he did _know_ him. This was Lance inviting him to talk about what was on his mind, to vent if need-be.

"Do you know how I got this?" He posed his own question in response, fingers tracing the scar slicing across his nose.

Lance shook his head.

"I got it fighting the reigning Champion in Galra's gladiator ring. He had this energy ball that he would throw around the stadium and he knocked me down with it. As I fell, I sliced myself with my own weapon. It is the first of many more that I would later get in that ring. I wasn't even supposed to be the one to fight the champion."

His tone was soft and calm, entirely at odds with the story he was sharing with Lance.

Lance continued to watch him evenly, his eyes following the path Shiro's fingers had taken in outlining the mark of Shiro's fumble. "Matt was supposed to fight that time, wasn't he?" He finally said.

Shiro blinked at Lance, startled that the other knew about this, but Lance waved it away before Shiro could say anything. "Pidge told me about it." He explained.

Shiro still stared at Lance, wondering how much exactly the other knew about him.

"I got this one when I was five." Lance said, drawing Shiro's attention back to the scar he had been looking at earlier. "My older cousin took my siblings and I fishing. He and my older brother got in a fight and when my cousin went to smack my brother with his fishing rod, he scratched me by accident with the hook." He smiled at Shiro.

Shiro hoped that his cheeks weren't red, despite how hot they felt at the way Lance had pulled down the already low and loose collar of his shirt to reveal how far the scar went. 

"Oh, and this one?" Lance mumbled as he pulled the cloth lower, revealing the whole left side of his chest and stomach, until Shiro could see the twin, deep scratches. "Hunk and I were horsing around. He pushed me and I fell in the water and this hati fish was literal inches from my face, giving me this _look_ , you know? I kept my cool of course, but I still slipped against a rock when I tried to get away from it. I got these when I fell on this wicked sharp mussel. It stung like hell, man." He said, frowning when Shiro chuckled.

"Hey! Hati fish may look cute, but they're terrifyingly poisonous I'll have you know. So what if I flipped out? I had every right to flip out." He huffed, resting his hands on his hips, the whole left side of his shirt hanging loosely off his arm, treating Shiro to an unobstructed view of the left side of his body. Shiro finally got a good look at the tattoo that curled around Lance's bicep, the markings mimicking the movement of water in heavy, black ink and block-y shapes. And though the tattoo was a tribal thing for him and Hunk, Shiro found that the design really suited Lance and his deceptively muscled arms.

"I believe you, I do." Shiro smiled, sure that he was red by now as Lance made no move to fix his shirt. The gleam in Lance's eyes made Shiro question if maybe the young man was doing this on purpose. Was he really that obvious? Did Lance catch him staring a bit too long and too hard?

"So..." He cleared his throat.

"I dream about it too." Lance's words stopped whatever Shiro wanted to say. 

"How I got some of them." The young man added. 

Shiro searched Lance's eyes, an understanding passing between them. 

They both had their own battle scars, their own nightmares that kept them up at night. But they were both still here, made stronger and brought together by circumstances not unlike fate.

"Tell me more?" Shiro nodded at another scar he spied on what was revealed of Lance's torso, settling in more comfortably against the control panel as Lance's fingers brushed over the skin just under the scar Shiro had pointed out.

"Ah, this one... Well, you see..."

And Shiro listened, learning more and more about Lance through the stories attached to his scars.


End file.
